


I Am One Of Your People

by Zee



Category: Haikyuu!!, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Anal Fingering, Biting, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Friends With Benefits, Future Fic - University, Kink Exploration, M/M, Masturbation, Open Relationships, Oral Sex, Restraints, Rope Bondage, volleyball armin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 16:12:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6573070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zee/pseuds/Zee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Armin feels comfortable asking Kenma to help him explore things he's never had the chance to try before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Am One Of Your People

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ouroboros](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ouroboros/gifts).



“Are you sure--” Armin cut himself off and felt nervous laughter bubble up. He knew he didn’t need to ask this question, knew that Kenma had already assured him that he wanted to do this. Asking again was an empty reflex, unnecessary. 

Kenma smiled at Armin’s giggles, his shoulders shaking a bit with his own silent laugh. “Yes, I’m sure,” he said. He made sure that Armin was looking at him when he said it, meeting Armin’s gaze head-on instead of ducking to let his hair swing in front of his face. He was sitting in the office chair at his desk, and it squeaked as he swiveled to face Armin fully.

It was enough for Kenma to say that he was sure, Armin believed him, but the eye contact helped, too. It settled the nerves in Armin’s stomach, made the tension in his shoulders a fraction looser. He smiled back.

“Okay. Great. Uh…” Armin glanced up at Kenma’s bed from where he was sitting on the floor. They had decided to do this in Kenma’s dorm, because Kenma’s roommate was often out anyway, and when he wasn’t out he sexiled Kenma often enough that Kenma didn’t feel awkward asking for the room to himself sometimes. Armin didn’t feel like he had the comfort level with his own roommate yes to ask him to leave the dorm for a whole night. 

Besides, Kenma’s room was where they’d tended to default to even before they had started hooking up, when they’d just been hanging out as friends. Well--they were still hanging out as friends, Armin figured. There was just a bit more to it, now.

Kenma was looking at his own bed too, somewhat critically. Armin figured he was thinking the same thing, which was: could they really get this to work with a dorm bed?

“I think I can tie it to the bed frame,” Kenma said. “The metal cross-bar should work. I was going to test it out before you got here, but I didn’t have time.”

“Right.” Armin was sure that Kenma had been absorbed in one of his games right up until Armin’s arrival. For the first few minutes of their conversation, he’d been glancing at where the PSP lay on his desk, like he was still thinking about whichever game he was in the middle of. But right now Armin felt like he had Kenma’s undivided attention. 

About a month after they’d both started at this university, and about four months after the first time they’d met on opposite sides of the court, Armin had realized how rare it was for Kenma to give anyone his full attention like that. And he’d started keeping track of how often Kenma gave him his full attention, how often Kenma put his phone or his PSP down to engage fully in conversation with Armin.

It happened a lot. Armin had been resistant to the truth of this at first, because it seemed impossibly arrogant to assume that someone who had only known him for a few months--and someone as undeniably special as Kenma--could possibly find him so interesting. But Kenma had texted him so often over the summer, with so many of those conversations lasting for hours, and when they’d started at the same university, Kenma was always so present whenever they were together. After a while, Armin stopped denying what was obviously true: Kenma was as interested in Armin as Armin was interested in him. 

“Tying it to the bed frame sounds fine,” Armin said. “You mean the part that would be behind my head, right?”

Kenma nodded. “Do you want to undress first? Or do you want me to tie you up first, and then let me take your clothes off?”

Armin felt all his blood rush to his cheeks. His gaze fell on the coiled rope in Kenma’s lap. Kenma’s voice was brisk, practical and calm, like he could be discussing anything, but this wasn’t anything, it was--Kenma was going to tie Armin’s hands to the bed, and then they were going to have sex while he was restrained. Armin had requested this, and Kenma had thought about it and then acquiesced. It was happening. 

They had talked about this kind of thing before, long before the first time they’d kissed, back when Armin just thought of Kenma as a particularly close friend. Back when he’d still been surprised at how many of their conversations became this intimate, before he’d fully incorporated “can talk to him about absolutely anything” into his conception of Kenma. 

Eren had suggested that he and Armin try an open relationship about a month after they’d both started at their respective universities. Armin had thought of Kenma immediately.

“Um,” Armin said, and felt the return of the nervous laughter forcing its way out. One of his hands tensed, almost into a fist, and he deliberately relaxed. “Can we just… make out first, and then see what feels right?”

“Sure.” Kenma didn’t move at first, and his stillness made Armin realize that he was just as frozen. For several seconds it seemed likely that neither of them would ever move again, that Armin would grow old and die here poised on the very edge of finally obtaining something he’d fantasized about for years. 

Then Kenma shifted, sliding one of his feet that had been hooked on the edge of the chair to the floor. Then he stood up, holding the coiled rope loosely in one hand. “Would you like to put on music or something?”

They’d never required music to get started making out before. They’d required alcohol, the very first time, but all the times since then had been sober. But Armin supposed that this was different--it was okay that this was different, it was new for both of them.

“Sure,” Armin said. “Did you have anything in mind?”

Kenma shrugged. His smile was bashful, and represented so much of himself, and Armin wanted to kiss him. “Yeah, kind of. Just tell me if you hate it and I’ll put on something else.”

“I doubt I’ll hate it,” Armin said, and Kenma’s smile widened. He walked over to a pile of clothes on the floor and rummaged through it, eventually coming up with an iPod. “I don’t have this album on my phone,” he explained, although Armin had not asked for an explanation.

After Kenma hooked up the iPod to the computer speakers on the desk, he came and sat in front of Armin on the floor. He took Armin’s hand while the beginning of a song drifted over them. Armin continued to blush as Kenma stroked a thumb over his knuckles. He squeezed Kenma’s fingers as hard as he could.

Neither of them played volleyball anymore, that had just been for high school. But Armin knew there would never be a day when he wasn’t grateful to volleyball for bringing him Kenma. They’d only ever played that one game against each other, but still, volleyball was what Armin thought of when he thought about Kenma’s hands. Volleyball was the amorphous entity he chose to thank for introducing this person to his life.

As the song went on, it became obvious that this was a video game soundtrack. Armin grinned. It was still good music. He leaned forward and cupped the back of Kenma’s neck, pulling him in close. It was a good kiss. Every kiss with Kenma was a good kiss.

Kenma was the one to deepen things, to slip his tongue into Armin’s mouth and grab Armin’s waist, pressing his fingers hot against Armin’s side. Armin leaned into it. Armin liked Kenma so much, and every time they kissed he thought at least once about Eren, about how much he loved Eren. It was, he thought, his brain’s way of checking in with him, of making sure that this wasn’t turning into anything that was going to upset anyone. 

Armin was pretty sure that this was okay, though. Pretty sure it wasn’t bad. There was a place in his heart for Eren that couldn’t be touched by anything else in the world, and it had been there for so long that Armin couldn’t imagine it ever going away. The place in his heart for Kenma was different, it was very _right now,_ at least the parts of it that involved sex. It was exciting, and it was new, and it was mutual, but Armin knew it wouldn’t last forever, and that seemed okay.

He hoped their friendship would last forever, though. He’d only met Kenma at the end of his third year in high school, so it was really too soon to say, but already he’d become so important in Armin’s life.

He climbed into Kenma’s lap, and Kenma shifted back to accommodate him. Kenma was making soft, breathy sounds, and Armin knew he was making noise, too. The video game soundtrack floated in and out of his perception. It was, Armin thought, actually a pretty appropriate choice for the occasion.

“Do you still have the rope?” Armin asked the question into Kenma’s ear, knowing he still had the rope. Kenma snorted like he knew Armin knew.

“I’m just waiting,” he said.

“For what?”

“What do you think? For you.”

Armin pushed his hips against Kenma’s. He could feel the sure line of Kenma’s dick against his thigh, and Kenma’s breath was hot against his cheek. He thought about Kenma tying his wrists, pictured it just as he had pictured it a thousand times this past week, his mind going there every time he lost focus during class or while walking between university buildings. “I’m ready, then.”

He shifted off of Kenma’s lap and they stood up at the same time, and Armin heard the breath leave Kenma’s lungs in a loud exhale that his own lungs mirrored. Armin felt full with his decision, driven and clear. He took two steps forward, sat on the bed, and stripped off his shirt. Then he laid back, his head on Kenma’s pillow and his arms raised up above his head. He touched his wrists together.

Kenma’s eyes were wide, and he was looking all over Armin’s body. Then he looked at Armin’s face and uncoiled part of the rope, holding the end in one hand while he moved to the bed. The mattress gave and creaked under Kenma’s weight, and Armin’s waist was now bracketed by Kenma’s knees. 

The air was a little chilly on Armin’s bare chest, making his nipples hard. It heightened the feeling of vulnerability, and when Kenma touched him, his fingers starting at Armin’s forearms and sliding up to his wrists, it felt warm and nice. Armin realized he was holding his breath, and let it out slowly as Kenma started wrapping the rope around his wrists.

Kenma had to lean further over him to tie the other end onto the bed frame below the mattress. It gave Armin a nice, close view of Kenma’s collarbone, of three small moles scattered over his neck. Kenma’s skin always looked so soft, so ready to be touched. It was strange to think that about someone who didn’t want to be touched most of the time (at least, not by people who weren’t Armin and Kuroo, a fact which Armin knew even though he had yet to meet Kuroo), but it still felt true.

The music, playing this whole time in the background, floated back to the forefront of Armin’s mind as Kenma worked. With instrumental electronica like this, it was tricky to tell when one song ended and the next began, but Armin thought that this must be a new song--it sounded darker, more worried than the first one. Armin imagined that in the video game this was supposed to go with, the player character was probably facing off against a mid-level villain right about now. 

It took Kenma a while to figure out how to get the rope tied to his satisfaction. Armin felt a tug at his wrists several times, as Kenma experimented with how much slack there should be, and then Kenma made a pleased sort of soft grunt noise and sat up, finished.

“How does that feel?”

Armin tested the restraints, pulling carefully at first and then harder. There was enough give in the rope that it wouldn’t strain his shoulder muscles too hard if he was just lying here, but if he tried to move his hands more than a few centimeters or so, he couldn’t. 

“It’s good,” Armin said. His heart was starting to beat faster now, as it sunk in that he really was restrained, that he couldn’t just immediately get out of this if he decided he didn’t like it. Except he could, of course--Kenma would untie him immediately if he asked--but it was an interesting illusion. Armin had been jerking off to this feeling for so long without knowing if he’d actually like it if it happened to him, and it was gratifying to find out that yes, he liked it a lot.

Above him, Kenma smiled. He touched the skin beneath Armin’s collarbones, then ran his fingers down Armin’s torso, slow and deliberate. He stopped with his thumbs on Armin’s abs, just above the line of his pants, where those ‘V’ lines would be if Armin had more muscle definition. Armin shivered. He was starting to get hard just from this, from Kenma’s thumbs on his hips, from Kenma touching him while Armin could do nothing.

“The safeword?” Kenma said. Armin focused on his face, pushing the slight dizziness of his arousal to the back of his mind. 

“‘Nice toss,’” Armin said. Kenma nodded, and his touch turned into more of a grip, squeezing Armin’s hips for just a moment before he let go. 

Armin watched Kenma scoot back until he was between Armin’s legs. The robotic beeps and synthesizer trills of the music swooped and danced in the background as Kenma undid the fly of Armin’s pants, his fingers careful and deliberate. Armin lifted his hips, letting Kenma slide down first his pants, and then his underwear. Kenma briefly got off the bed to strip Armin’s pants off completely, letting them fall to the floor.

Armin knew he must be red all over, not just his face. Kenma’s gaze was roving up and down his body, and Armin felt more _seen_ than ever before in his life. He was fully hard and Kenma hadn’t even touched him. But it was just--being laid out like this, for Kenma (the fact that it was Kenma specifically had a lot to do with the feeling, Armin knew). He felt simultaneously helpless and held, safe yet on edge. He squirmed a little, pulling at the restraints, and the bite at his wrists helped center him.

Kenma was still kneeling between his legs, not doing anything, just looking. Armin didn’t want to hurry him--the whole point of this was Kenma only doing exactly what he wanted to do, with Armin lying here and receiving it regardless--but he was starting to feel antsy. His dick was hard and he was ready to be touched.

“I really like the way you look,” Kenma said quietly. He glanced up to meet Armin’s eyes, almost shy, and an answering grin was already stretched on Armin’s lips. Armin found it difficult to accept compliments from almost anyone else, but it was always so great coming from Kenma.

“Thank you,” Armin said. “Are you just going to look?”

“Maybe,” Kenma said, and Armin laughed.

“That’s too bad. For me, I mean--” Armin’s words cut off when Kenma did touch him, finally, in a way that Armin hadn’t expected. Kenma was touching his balls, cupping them lightly in his palm while his thumb brushed the base of Armin’s dick.

It felt nice, but Armin was so surprised and overcome by the intimacy that he had to turn his face to the side, pressing his burning cheek into his bicep. Kenma squeezed, very lightly, and Armin couldn’t help the noise he made or how his legs fell further open, inviting Kenma in. 

It occurred to Armin that Kenma could fuck him while he was like this. They hadn’t had anal sex yet, and it hadn’t been part of this particular discussion, but it was thrilling to think about as a possible option. 

Now Kenma was touching Armin’s dick for real, taking the pre-come at the tip and using it to slick up Armin’s shaft. Armin bit his lip, pushing himself up into Kenma’s hand. Kenma tightened his grip, got a little rougher, and Armin felt every muscle in his body quake from it.

“Is there anything you want me to do?” Kenma asked, his voice level and reserved, to a degree that drove Armin slightly insane. He loved Kenma’s voice, not least because he always sounded so in control, no matter what they were doing. Kenma was so good at giving nothing away, and Armin wasn’t sure why he found it so hot--was it because he wanted to emulate it, or because he wanted to challenge it?

“The whole point of this,” Armin said, his own voice high and shaky, affected. “Is that you can do whatever you want. What _ever_ you want, seriously. Just do what you want to do, all right? That’s--that’s good for me.” Armin licked his lips, a little embarrassed at just how into this he was. Kenma settled his free hand on Armin’s thigh, reassuring.

“Okay,” Kenma said. He bent over, kissing Armin’s neck while he continued to jerk Armin off. Then he went lower, kissing a line down Armin’s chest, running his tongue over Armin’s nipple. Light kisses and light touches, but somehow perfectly Kenma in their intensity. Armin felt undone, his whole self spooling out beneath Kenma, shaking apart in Kenma’s capable hands. 

Kenma shifted back, and then his hand was gone and he was taking Armin in his mouth instead. Armin didn’t bother to stop himself from crying out, his hands pulling at the ropes, the pain in his wrists mingling with the pleasure in his dick as Kenma sucked him. Somehow it was better like this: he wanted to be touching Kenma’s hair _so badly_ and the frustration of not being able to made his body feel like a harp string, stretched tight and long and held firm at both ends before being plucked, all his tightly contained want released into the air like a music note.

Kenma touched Armin’s balls again as his mouth moved up and down, taking Armin deep into his throat. Then Kenma reached a finger behind his balls, rubbing at the skin there, and Armin didn’t know what he was reacting to more, the feel of that finger itself or what it seemed to promise. Kenma stopped sucking Armin’s dick for a moment to suck on his own finger instead, probing wetly at Armin’s asshole.

Armin was vaguely aware of saying things, mostly Kenma’s name, words tumbling over each other as they left his tongue. Kenma seemed to have no problem blowing him while fingering him, somehow coordinated and efficient even in this. Kenma’s mouth was so tight and hot around Armin’s dick, and then there was his tongue, rubbing at the underside and pushing Armin roughly toward the edge. Armin tried to resist--he didn’t want this to end, but it was too good, too much. And Kenma didn’t seem like he was trying to draw this out or go slow. He seemed very focused on making Armin come, and it was working.

When Armin had imagined this, he’d imagined that Kenma would want to take his time, would take advantage of Armin being tied up in order to tease him relentlessly. They had sort of touched on that concept in their conversations about this, too, so Armin was a little surprised that Kenma wasn’t taking that approach now. But since the whole point was Kenma having his way with him however he preferred, then Armin was pleased. It was kind of a turn-on that Kenma wasn’t doing what Armin had predicted or asked for.

And it felt good. Fuck, it felt good. Armin had his eyes closed now, too close to the edge to keep them open, and he kept seeing explosions of color with each new press of Kenma’s tongue or crook of his finger. Kenma’s finger was deep now, too, inside Armin up to his knuckle, and he wasn’t being all that gentle now. It felt good in the same way that the rope cutting into his wrists felt good: it hurt, sure, but the hurt got wrapped up in pleasure and it was somehow all the same thing, stretching him open and working him up.

Armin yanked on his wrists hard, as hard as he could, and couldn’t get free, and that was it: he was coming. He managed to make a noise that hopefully served as some sort of warning, and Kenma didn’t move, letting Armin shoot into his mouth. He didn’t stop finger-fucking Armin all through it, and when it was finally over, Kenma slid his mouth off Armin’s softening dick and looked up, swallowing a couple of times.

“I want to keep fingering you while I get off,” he said. “Is that okay?”

His voice never even wavered. Armin kind of wanted to cry, not because he was sad, but because it seemed like a satisfying physical response to all the intensity he was feeling. He gasped for breath, still coming down, nodding because he didn’t trust himself to speak.

Kenma added the tip of a second finger, carefully. It was--they should use lube for this, probably, instead of just Kenma’s spit, but Armin kind of liked it a little dry like this. It hurt more. He pushed his hips into it as Kenma’s finger slid further in, reaching in deeper, curling inside him.

Kenma removed his hand briefly in order to sit up on the bed so that he was kneeling again. Armin watched, dazed and sated, as Kenma got his pants open. He liked seeing that Kenma’s dick was red and leaking, liked seeing the evidence that Kenma had enjoyed taking Armin apart.

Then Kenma was wrapping a hand around himself and switching to his left hand to finger Armin, pushing two fingers in again. Armin’s back arched, pulling at the ropes again. They were definitely going to leave marks on his wrists. 

“Do you want to fuck me?” Armin said, when he managed to find his voice. That was the next logical step after the fingers, after all.

Kenma’s eyes widened, and he bit his lip. His fingers twisted inside Armin. Armin watched as Kenma considered the suggestion.

“Maybe next time,” Kenma said. “Right now, this is good. I like--I like feeling you with my fingers.” Kenma’s gaze flicked away, like he was embarrassed at having said that, and for the first time since they’d started this Armin wished his hands were free, so that he could hug him.

“It feels good for me, too,” he said, because he wasn’t going to use their safeword just to give Kenma a hug. And it was true--it felt good, even though Armin had come already. It felt good that Kenma was using him like this, felt good to know that Kenma was getting off on stretching Armin open and making him feel fucked.

Armin watched greedily as Kenma touched himself, using the slow-but-hard strokes that Armin knew he preferred. He loved watching someone else masturbate--that was how his relationship with Eren had started, both of them jerking off together while watching the other, only nervously admitting that maybe this meant something beyond a close friendship after it had happened. And it was great with Kenma, too, watching how Kenma liked to touch himself. It made Armin feel privileged and special, to see something so private. 

Kenma’s face was beautifully flushed, his eyes open and fixed on Armin as his hand pumped himself faster. Armin alternated between looking at Kenma’s hand on his dick and watching his face, his lips twitching as his breaths came faster, his eyelashes fluttering. He liked watching the muscles in Kenma’s arms moving, too. He liked the way it felt inside him when Kenma pushed his fingers all the way in. He knew that it would be a while before he could get hard again, but it was such a turn-on to see this, it made him want to go for round two already.

With a sudden burst of clarity, Armin remembered that he could voice his thoughts, that speaking was a thing he could do. “You’re so hot, Kenma,” he said, and was rewarded when Kenma groaned, loud and sudden. “You’re so hot like this. I can’t wait to see you come. You can come all over me if you want--I couldn’t stop you, not tied up like this, you can do whatever you feel like--”

“Fuck!” It was a loud, broken-off curse, un-Kenmalike and delightful. Kenma’s eyes were screwed shut now and his hand was moving faster, sloppier. Armin grinned and pushed himself against those fingers, now straining inside him. 

“Whatever you want,” Armin said, not caring that he was repeating himself and possibly not making any sense. It seemed to be working for Kenma, so he tried to keep talking. “I trust you--anything you decide on, I’d be fine with it, I know you and I know you wouldn’t come up with anything I wouldn’t like--”

Kenma groaned, opening his eyes to fix Armin with a blistering stare. Armin met his eyes, helpless to look away. He’d always known Kenma could be intense like this, but feeling it directly was another story. Armin felt frozen, held down under that stare. 

“Anything?” Kenma said.

Armin nodded. “Anything.”

Abruptly Kenma’s fingers slid out of Armin, and Armin hissed a little at their absence. Then Kenma was switching hands, his left hand touching his dick instead of his right, and he was leaning over Armin with his right arm free.

“Bite me,” Kenma said, as he held his wrist in front of Armin’s mouth, palm up, blue veins brushing Armin’s lips. “Please. Do it hard.”

Armin was a little surprised, but he didn’t think before following the order. He opened his mouth and bit down hard on the flesh of Kenma’s wrist, as hard as he could, trying to make it hurt. The effect was immediate: Kenma cried out, his shoulders stiffening and his neck becoming one rigid line, and Armin’s view was now obstructed by Kenma’s forearm so he couldn’t see much, but he felt wetness spattered on his abs when Kenma came.

Armin didn’t stop biting down until Kenma seemed to be finished. Then he released his jaw, running his tongue over the skin he’d just bitten. Kenma took his arm back, giving Armin the chance to see the droplets of come on his own stomach and on Kenma’s fingers, still wrapped loosely around his dick.

Then Kenma let go of himself and laid down, fitting himself between Armin and the wall. For a while there was silence--Armin realized that the video game music had finished at some point, and he hadn’t noticed. 

Armin was beginning to feel a slight burn in his shoulders now. He still didn’t feel much of a hurry to be untied, although it would be nice to wrap his arms around Kenma right now. But he didn’t want to break this spell or disturb Kenma, whose heavy breaths he could feel against his neck, whose hand was covering the center of Armin’s chest, his palm right over Armin’s sternum.

Kenma was the first one to speak, after the quiet had lasted for a length of time Armin couldn’t begin to guess at--it could have been two minutes, could have been an hour. “Did you like that as much as you thought you would?”

“Yes,” Armin said, without hesitation. “It was a little weird, but I liked it. Did you?”

“Yes,” Kenma said. His voice was back to being even and calm, unflappable. Armin felt a surge of affection for his friend, who was so inscrutable to some yet so obvious to Armin, who was so unlike Eren, so unlike anyone else Armin had ever met. 

“Good,” Armin said. “I’m ready to be untied now, I think.”

“Oh, of course.” 

Armin waited patiently, idly watching his view of Kenma’s chest as Kenma bent over him, untying the rope. When Kenma was finished, Armin brought his arms down, already feeling the relief in his shoulders.

Kenma settled back down next to him, his eyes on Armin’s hands as Armin rubbed at his wrists. “It hurt?”

Armin nodded. “Yeah, but I liked it.”

Kenma hummed in agreement. Armin wanted to ask him about what had happened at the end there, with the biting. He was curious if Kenma had similar ideas and feelings about pain and sex as he did. But it also didn’t feel necessary to deconstruct everything right now, and Armin kind of liked keeping it in the back of his mind as something to bring up later.

So he didn’t say anything, and instead held Kenma close when Kenma turned over, giving Armin his back so that Armin could bury his nose in Kenma’s neck and fit his knees into Kenma’s legs. Armin knew from experience that Kenma would get bored with this part quickly, would want his PSP or his phone (the first time they’d had sex, Armin had caught Kenma in the act of texting Kuroo about it almost immediately after) or something. He appreciated that Kenma was putting up with the cuddling now, his hand covering Armin’s, their fingers laced together. 

“Thanks,” Armin said quietly. He hoped that Kenma would understand how much he was thanking him for. 

“Yeah,” Kenma said, his own voice just as soft. “Thank you, too.”

Kenma squeezed Armin’s hand, and Armin kissed the back of Kenma’s neck. Armin knew, a kind of knowledge that settled warmly in his stomach like the first sip of hot tea on a cold winter day, that Kenma understood.


End file.
